New World Meets Old
by Adali
Summary: There's another princess kicking around. A bit cynical, a bit sarcastic, and absolutely thrilled at spending the summer with Mia. Yeah right. Abandoned.
1. Princess of Armen

_Appologies to everyone who's read this before. I only just checked the formatting, and you were all so right: it's horrible. It wasn't like that on my computer, so I didn't notice. Last time I upload straight from Word. All things considered, I'm lucky there were any spaces in that last version. Anyway, hopefully this is a bit easier to read. Please, read, enjoy and, as always, review._

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**Tuesday, June 12**

So, guess who was just on the phone. Mom, of course. Ain't that just great? I mean, it's not like she ever calls me just to chat. Oh no, she only calls when she needs me to do something. Or when I've done something wrong. Funny, that seems to happen a lot. You'd have thought she'd have made me perfect by now, with all her 'sit up straight's and 'chew with your mouth closed's. For someone with 'immaculate manners', I sure screw up a lot.

This time, amazingly, I didn't screw up. No, this time she was actually happy with me. Because, get this, there's a princess out there that's worse than me. No joke. Mom said I shouldn't laugh, of course, but hey, it's funny! I mean, who wouldn't laugh at some of the stuff she's done? But it's not nice, blah blah blah, so I gotta stop. Great, even my journal's censored.

Anyway, I get to go to New York this year. I was really looking forward to Hawaii (I've never been, it's 'too public'), but I get to go to New York instead. Either way it's America, I guess, but really. On one hand, beaches, surf, and all the other good stuff that comes with tropical islands. On the other, smelly city and lots of weird people. Let's see. I choose.... Hawaii, maybe? But no, not happening. I get to go to New York and bum around with a princess who has no idea which salad fork to use, doesn't understand that life sucks so she might as well get over it, and is vegetarian. I dread to think what'll happen when I get tired of soy and tofu and order a real steak. It might even be fun.

Sum it up, I get a really lousy summer, I leave my friends early, and spend my last few days here writing exams. Thanks mom. Thanks a lot.

**Saturday, June 16**

As I now have an incredibly boring flight to London to look forward to, being as I have to go there to choose the right clothes and all, I decided I might as well write. It's better than staring at clouds, which there are a lot of.

Starting easy, my name. I am Princess Sara Mari del Minoti of Armen, daughter of King Casper James del Minoti the second of Armen and his lady Princess Jasmine Anne Ryel del Minoti of, you guessed it, Armen. Or, preferably, Sara.

Armen is, as most people don't know, a little country hidden somewhere among the Greek islands. I'm not sure where, I've never been there, and maps aren't too forthcoming. It's about 200 miles square, as my mother says with pride, which translates to about nothing. More common knowledge is that it's completely neutral, has favorable banking and taxation laws (i.e., like none, except pay the government occasionally) , and excellent vineyards. We have no outstanding artists or athletes, no entertainers or famous people of any sort, but apparently people come to visit just for the beautiful views and wonderful climate. I have long been of the opinion that it's the tax breaks, no-questions- asked banks, and non-existent minimum drinking age. My mother says I'm too cynical.

I was sent, at the age of four, to live with my aunt and uncle in Canada. Edmonton, actually, but few enough people I meet when I travel know where that it that I generally just say Canada or, at a stretch, Alberta. Yes, it's great living so close to the capital and no, the snow doesn't really bother me; there's only six feet of it during the summer, which isn't too bad.

I grew up with three cousins, Maggie (who liked to take the 'e' off to make herself seem more sophisticated), Rob, and Jen. There was also Aunt Karen, Uncle Max, and the dogs Cinders and Batman. Considering what I put up with, I'm surprised I'm just cynical and sarcastic, not totally insane. After eleven years with them it occurred to my mother to tell me that I was the princess and sole legitimate heir of King Casper. I had always assumed we were distantly related hundreds of years ago and my mom was just some rich lady who's husband I never met . Shows what I know.

So now I'm on my way to London to shop for clothes, because stained jeans with torn hems and t-shirts I've had since fourth grade just won't cut it in New York. Mother wanted to take me to Paris, because the fashions are apparently much better there, but we don't go there anymore. Not since I was thirteen and spent a week telling people I was a squid in my flawlessly accented but hardly fluent French. After Mom got mad at me, I used my wonderful dictionary skills to translate a speech which I recited at any restaurant with calamari (all of them) , detailing how I couldn't possibly eat calamari because I was a squid and that would be cannibalism, and so on. Mom doesn't order calamari anymore.

Now I'm stuck in England, so all I can do is recite Monty Python and talk in a really fake British accent. Fortunately, Lord of the Rings came out recently, so now I can do Gollum impressions, which I apparently do far too well for my mother's peace of mind. I'm so proud. 

**Later Saturday**

Still stuck on the plane. First class, fortunately, or I'd be trying to hijack to plane. Still bored. My laptop just died. I guess I should have recharged it. Nick won't lend me his. He says he has to write a letter to his father explaining why he won't be coming home this summer. That'll be tricky, I agree. His dad isn't the most understanding. You don't really expect a Mafia leader to be. 

Nick is twenty-two and my, well, bodyguard, I guess. He's average height, with brown hair and eyes. Nothing great to look at. Cute, maybe, but nothing more. His dad, Geoff Samson, is the leader of Armen's Mafia, as his grandfather was. Mom doesn't know that, it turns out. My father chose him, actually because of that. He's good friends with Samson, and the Mafia connections have proved useful in the past. Besides, who's gonna mess with the Mafia? 

As my bodyguard, Nick doesn't do much of the typical stuff. He stays with some people his dad has connections to a few houses down from my uncle's and goes to the university. He picks me up from school and drives me around, gets hold of fireworks and beer for me and my friends, and just generally hangs out with me. I'd hate to have a regular bodyguard, like I'm stuck with during the summers when Mom and I travel and Nick goes back to Armen. They're all big, quiet, and kinda disturbing to be around. I couldn't stand it. 

I'm bored. I think I'll annoy the stewardess for a while. Take her mind off the tedium of her job. She might hate me for it, and decide she rather likes tedium, but at least I'll be occupied for half an hour. 

**Sunday, June 17**

Nick is a great guy, you know? Really great. But sometimes I really wish I didn't get stuck with him. I mean, yeah he's cool to hang out with. Yeah he's a great friend. Yeah, I could get stuck with someone else. But do I gotta share a hotel room with the guy? 

That's not totally fair, I know. It's not like we're exactly in the same room. Same suite, yes, but it's got four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, everything! I could probably go days without seeing him, if I timed it right. Except I timed it completely wrong, and walked into the kitchen when he was eating breakfast in his boxers. I know it shouldn't bother me but really, put some clothes on! What if my Mom showed up? I doubt she could get in, the suite having absolutely incredible security, but you never know with her. Wouldn't that have looked just a bit wrong? 

So I tell him off a bit, send him to put on some pants, and right after the door closes, who lets herself in? My mom. Ironic, eh? And she's all "Let's go shopping, dear. There's some absolutely darling outfits you just have to try." Thank you, no. 

"I don't do darling, mom. I don't do outfits either, in case you've forgotten. I wear jeans, t-shirts, and skate shoes." 

Even that didn't seem to bother her. I must be losing my touch. Normally I'd have her screaming at me for a comment like that. Damn. 

"Come on honey. You'll love it, I promise." 

"Whatever." If there's one thing my mom hates, it's words like whatever and meh. This time she just smiled. What's she on, I wonder. "Nick," I yelled, another thing mom hates, "get ready, we gotta go." Gonna, gotta, sorta. Mom hates them all. She didn't seem to mind. She's on something, for sure. 

**Later Sunday**

My mother is so incredibly stupid, she defies the imagination. We're in England, right? London. Probably not even two hours drive from my private estate which, might I add, is filled with all the clothes she's been buying for me for the past couple of years, ever since she told me I was a princess and not just a seriously rich kid, or maybe even before. I've gotta have like a quarter million in clothes and shoes there, but could we just go pick some up? No, of courses not. Instead, we spend seven hours in the most exclusive shops in London, with me modeling every dress in the shop while Mom enjoys the exotic teas they give to their favorite customers. 'Turn more, Sara. Slowly, dear,' and 'very pretty'. Blegh. 

Not that Mother could have come to my estate with me anyway. Grandpa wouldn't allow that. He hasn't spoken to her in like fifteen, twenty years, because she married a man who believes in bigamy. I gotta say, I agree, and if it weren't for the whole king thing, I think Grandpa would have murdered them both. But King Casper being, well, royal, he got a little slack. Not my mother though. Completely disowned. Not allowed within miles of the family estates, including mine. Not that I'm complaining. I'm more than happy to have a place she can't go. Like a secret tree fort, sorta. Except that my fort has twelve bedrooms, two dining rooms, half a dozen parlors and studies, a stable, and close to two hundred acres. The Ryel's are apparently some smaller branch of the royal family, or maybe some family that was royal at one point. Mother doesn't talk about them. Getting cut off probably came as a pretty hard blow, even if she was warned. 

Well anyway, I now have another couple thousand dollars worth of clothes, none of which are suitable for climbing, running, riding, anything. I'm not even allowed to get the bathing suits wet! Argh! 


	2. Welcome to America

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You've been a huge help._

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**Tuesday, June 21**

New York airport is big and full of people. It's probably always that way, even at three in the morning, the most ungodly hour there is. I'm in one of those executive club things, the ones that are full of business execs tapping away madly on their laptops, muttering into their cellphones, and wearing their dark suits which could not possibly stay so immaculate on the plane. 

All the yogurt is low fat, there's no sugar-filled cereal, and they don't have any pop - only pure imported spring water. Nick went to try and get the limo sorted out, because apparently one of King Casper's other wives is staying in the consulate right now, and using the limo. My limo. Stupid hag. Next to the king, I'm the most important person in Armen (even though I've never been there). And if the old biddy doesn't believe it, she should at least be able to notice that I have a bodyguard, and she doesn't. Ergo, she's expendable. I'm not. 

**Later Tuesday**

That worked out quite nicely. The dowager princess of Genovia, Clarice, kindly lent me her limo and driver so I could at least get to the consulate. Her husband was good friends with Grandpa, though, so somehow it's not surprising. I'm also supposed to be spending the summer with her granddaughter. So we got to the consulate, just as the stupid woman herself was heading out. Elbows tucked in to her sides, arms out, with a big handbag, and a pet poodle, she did her stupid little royal walk down the steps towards us. I could tell instantly that she was the sort of person I hate. Little pink suit, big pink hat, stupid little veil. Ugh. 

She gave me this look, like, what do you think you're doing here? I did as Grandpa told me, and ignored her. Nick didn't. That's what he's paid a five figure salary for. 

I don't remember the exact words, but basically he made it pretty clear that she had better bow, right away. Of course, she didn't. I didn't really expect her to. I was wearing my typical jeans and shirt, rumpled from being unable to sit still on the plane. 

She made a mistake, of course. She thought she was superior to me, and tried to impress me with her titles. Never, ever do that. That was one of Grandpa's biggest lessons. 'Cause the other person might prove to be more important than you, or even able to use your name against you. Like a kidnapper. 

"My dear," she said hautily, "I am Lady Tanya Jume del Minoti. Please remove yourself, or I shall have to have security do it for you." 

I couldn't help but grin. "If they do, it'll be more than their jobs are worth. Because you see, darling Tanya, you aren't a del Minoti. You're just plain old Tanya Jume, and you're in my house." 

"Snipe! Who do you think you are?" 

That was, of course, Nick's cue to announce me. Never introduce yourself, Grandpa had said. Let someone else do it for you. Unless, he'd allowed, it was at an informal gathering with children your own age. Then you'll be thought rude if you don't. Rude was something Grandpa would never allow. "May I present Sara Mari Ryel del Minoti, Duchess of Rysoth and Princess of Armen." I didn't normally include the Ryel, because it made too many four letter words in my name, which was already a mouthful and a chore to remember, but the Ryels were a powerful family. It also gave testament to my parentage. 

"As I said, you're in my house. I want you out by four o'clock this afternoon." It was three. I highly doubted she could get out in less than an hour, but I'd soon find out. 

"Where will I go?" 

"Back to Armen, of course. I don't want you here." 

"Your father..." 

"Can take up any issues he has with me, directly." And she was gone. Sometimes being a princess has its perks, like ordering stupid old harpies around. 

So anyway, I went and wandered around the consulate after she'd gone. It's a nice enough place, I guess, though I can't say I care much for the style. Lots of abstract art and gaudy colors, like it was decorated in the sixties, by someone who thought pleather and faux fur would be in style forever. The outside of the building's pretty nice. At least the architect had some idea of what they were doing. I'll have to make some changes to this place before it's habitable. Okay, a lot of changes, but whatever. 

**Still Later, Tuesday**

Well, King Casper just called. Apparently the old biddy called him as soon as she reached the airport. There was a lot of 'who are you's and 'who told you you could do that's. Apparently she forgot to mention that little detail about me being the princess. I also, apparently, had several thugs forcibly throw her off the grounds. I listened to a lecture for about ten minutes before he drew breath and I could mention who I was. 

"Excuse me," I interjected, "I'm Sara Mari del Minoti. I think I have every right to kick people out of my house." 

It seemed he needed to think about that. Like it wasn't totally obvious. Hello, I'd just said my name which was, conveniently, very similar to his name. Could there be any relationship between us? Like, me being his heir? Nah, couldn't be. 

"What are you doing in New York?" 

Hadn't he organized this bloody meeting? Well, maybe, or maybe not. If he had, he certainly didn't remember it. He hadn't even remembered me a second ago, and I'm his kid. 

"Someone, you I suspect, arranged for me to spend the summer with Princess Mia." 

"Who?" 

I wanted to groan. In fact, I think I did. Staying polite, particularly with idiots, has always been hard. I just never thought my father would be one of those idiots. 

"Her Royal Highness the princess of Genovia, Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, heir to the principality of Genovia, daughter of the Prince of Genovia, Artur Christoff Phillipe Gerard Grimaldi Renaldo. Do I need to tell you where Genovia is?" I asked, annoyed. I was amazed I could remember those names. Or maybe not so much, since Grandpa had pounded them, along with dozens like them, into my head last few summers, when I went to Rysoth to learn about being a noble (and a royal) and start running my estate. 

"Indeed. I hope it goes well for you. Now, on the matter of the bodyguards, you know we don't hold with having more than a few. From Lady Tanya's description…" 

"She had best get her eyes checked," I interrupted. What was all that shit about my having a bunch of toughs to bodily throw her off the estate? "I had one person with me. Nick." 

"Who?" 

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see it. "Antonio Nicolarin Samson. Geoff Samson's son." 

"Ah. Of course. I assigned him to you, didn't I?" "Years ago." 

He seemed to think that was explanation enough, and got ready to hung up, saying the various parting pleasantries that were appropriate. 

I interrupted. Terrible habit, I know. "Can I redecorate the consulate? It's hideous." 

m"Go ahead. Use your credit card." Mother had given me one of the royal credit cards at some point. Basically, you flash one of those and suddenly the people in the store can't do enough for you. Most people don't use them, apparently, but I've never liked calling the dressmakers and artisans and all them to the house. They tend to get lost if you don't live full time on a large estate. 

They had no trouble finding the consulate, though. They probably fought to get here first. That didn't stop a couple of them (the gays, I think), fainting when they saw the place. It is horribly decorated, I admit, but that's going a bit far. But, anyway, they'll start fixing the place up tomorrow, while I'm away talking to the various members of the Genovian royal family. Anything they do will be better than what it is now. 

**Wednesday, June 22**

It was with a far from happy outlook that I went to breakfast this morning. I mean, who really wants to go to the Plaza to eat with a pair of stuck up old monarchs? I was wearing one of those horrid outfits Mother bought me in London. Alright, it's not like it's embarrassing to go out in it. It is very fashionable. But that doesn't mean I like it. I'm certainly not going to wear it to meet Mia later. You just don't go to a place full of people your own age dressed like that. Unless you're Clarice, of course. The stupid restaurant was filled with people her age. Old. 

They almost didn't let me in. But Nick talked to the guy quietly for a bit, pulled out a passport - mine, probably - growled something, and suddenly he couldn't do enough. That seems to happen a lot. Oh well. It's convenient. 

Despite me being really grumpy and stuff, breakfast didn't actually go that bad. Clarice was about what I expected - scary, old, annoying - but Prince Phillipe wasn't so bad. If my dad turned out to be like him, it wouldn't be so bad. 'Cause I mean, apart from the whole thing with it being three royals eating a full brunch in a private stateroom, it could almost have been breakfast at one of my friend's houses. None of that rot about etiquette. You know, like he knew the stuff, and stuck by it, but wasn't so concerned about being formal and proper. If his daughter screws up as much as they say, that's definitely lucky for her. Course, she has to deal with Clarice, but at least that's only one crazy old bat. Not like me. I gotta put up with my mother, Aunt Karen, my mom's various crazy old friends, and, more than likely, various nutters like Lady Tanya. 

I've decided that there's nothing wrong with being a princess. It's the people that come with the position that are bad. 

At one point, for example, Clarice was kinda hinting that there were a couple of kids I should keep Mia away from. Her best friend, whose name is Lilly Something-or-other (Clarice couldn't remember), in particular. 

"How 'bout no, kay?" I snapped. "You wanna break up her friendships, you do it. And you can deal with her afterwards. I'm not getting involved. I'm here to help her get involved in the international community. Get that? I'm not saying what she should or shouldn't do, who she can be friends with, all that stuff. That's her parents job." Clarice, well, she didn't look happy. But Prince Phillipe seemed close to laughing. Like I said, a cool dad. 

I think I heard Nick snicker in the background. He was bored, I didn't doubt, and probably hungry too. We'd cut the time tight so we'd have more time to sleep in, and he hadn't gotten any breakfast. He standing against one wall of the room, next to Prince Phillipe's bodyguard, who's one of the big, burly types that I hate to have around. Clarice, apparently, doesn't have one. She does, on the other hand, have this horrid little poodle called Rommel. I don't like poodles in general, but I really hate Rommel. He's this grumpy little thing that sits in Clarice's lap and gets indigestion from eating caviar. I don't like caviar, so I'm not gonna say something stupid like 'imagine, getting sick from top quality caviar!', but really! Feeding an ugly little dog (he's hairless, though you can't tell, because he wears these hideous little dog sweaters that match Clarice's outfits) caviar. Of course it's gonna get sick. Some people are so stupid about their pets. Particularly crazy old bats. 

**Later Wednesday**

Some day, I'm gonna find that crazy guy that designed school uniforms, and I'm gonna kill him in some nasty way and put his head on a spike so all the other fashion designers can see what happens if they do something similarly stupid. I mean, really. I thought it was just my school that had ugly uniforms. Apparently not. 'Cause the ones at Albert Einstein high school are just as bad. Same design, actually, just different colors. You know, different tie, different tartan, same horrid design, falling apart blazers and knee socks that won't stay up. 

I dressed tidily, as my mother had wanted me to, but no jewels, no fancy dress, and no tiara. My tiara's nice enough, I guess, but it's uncomfortable, and people look at you funny. Just tidy jeans and a button up tailor shirt. You could have got an outfit like that for maybe a hundred bucks. Except that mine was all tailor made, so it had actually cost closer to five. Nick did the same sort of thing; black jeans, white oxford shirt, black jacket and, of course, the black bodyguard sunglasses. 

I was totally shocked. The first person I met going in to the school (there weren't many around, 'cause it was like ten in the morning, so everyone was probably in class) was Michael Moscovitz, one of my best friends from camp. Back when I went to camp, I mean. Before the whole thing with being a princess. We'd stayed in touch over the years, but I'd never thought he'd come to school here. I mean, New York's a big place. Bigger than all of Armen. I think. 

Nick, who'd never met Michael, growled "Who's that?" in my ear. 

"Mike," I hissed back. "Friend from camp." 

"Business, man. Always business." Mike didn't know anything about my being royal. I'd never told him. Or any of my other friends, for that matter. It complicates things. 

He laughed a little. "How come you haven't been to camp past couple of years." 

"Business, again." 

"Now that I don't believe. You never worked when you didn't have to. But whatever. Who's your friend." 

"Mike, Nick. Nick, Mike." Grandpa would throw a fit if he heard me give an introduction like that. "Anyway, do I gotta sign in as a visitor or something?" 

"Sure. I'll take you in." Which is what he did. He took us in, brought us to the secretary. Except that she wanted my name, and wasn't taking 'Sara' as an answer. 

"Just tell her your name," Nick hissed. "It'll come out eventually." Mike was looking at me like I was crazy. 

"No," I hissed back. 

"Do it, or I'll do it for you." It's a sad day when your bodyguard can tell you what to do. 

"Fine," I muttered back. "Sara Minoti." 

"Nice try," the secretary said. "You think I haven't heard of the Minotis?" I wanted to hit her just then. 

"I," I said, grinding out every word, "am Princess Sara Mari Ryel del Minoti of Armen, here to see Princess Amelia," I took a breath. Bloody Europeans and their long names. "Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo of Genovia." She blinked, and made out the visitor pass. Maybe she thought I was some crazy person seeking publicity, but nobody claims to be a Minoti lightly. Everyone knows they have the Mafia behind them. In my case, it was true quite literally. 

"And this is...?" 

"My bodyguard. Antonio Nicolarin Samson." I glanced towards Mike. He was looking at me funny. 

"Business?" 

"Um... you could call it that." 

"Right. Because being a princess isn't a big deal at all." 

"Yeah, well... people look at you funny when you're a princess." 

"And let me guess, you can't do whatever you want." 

"That's about it." 

"I'll take them to see Mia, Miss Molina." 

"Are you sure? Shouldn't I just call her down." 

"Oh no, that's all right." 

"I've got G and T with her anyway." 

He lead us away down the hall. Institution colored walls, standard issue lockers... basically, it was a typical school. "Aren't you a little old to be having classes with her? She's what… fourteen?" 

"Fifteen. But everyone's in G and T together." I nodded to show I understood. Well, everyone knows Americans are crazy. 

When Mike opened the door, I saw a typical classroom. You know, desks, chairs, bored teenagers. They weren't as bored as normal, though, because as far as I could tell, that weren't actually doing anything. The teacher looked like she was just getting ready to leave. I could hear the sound of a violin coming from what looked like a closet door. And, of course, everyone was just sitting around talking. 

"Oh, Mrs. Hill. This is Sara. She's here to see Mia." Good introduction, Mike. Like, really, people aren't gonna wonder why a couple of kids are coming in in the middle of class to talk to 'New York's Royal'. 

I picked out Mia immediately. She was the one with the bodyguard beside her. "Man, I'd hate a job like that," Nick muttered. I had to agree. Imagine having to look after a kid while she did everything. At least Nick isn't with me every minute of the day, except when we leave the city. 

Mrs. Hill said something, then left. I went and dropped into an empty seat at the table where Mia was talking to her friend, a sort of pug-faced girl. Mike dropped into the seat beside me, and Nick settled himself on top of a nearby desk. Of course. It's not like he ever has to do anything. All the awkward introductions are always left to me. 

"Hey Mia. Um, this is Sara." 

"What are you doing here?" the pug-faced girl asked. "I thought you were taking the day off." Mike said something about forgetting something, which she said she highly doubted. The girl turned to me. "What about you?" 

"Nice to meet you too." 

Mia seemed to think this was the right time to try out her princess training. And I stress, try. She wasn't very good at it. Oh, she got most of the words right, but if she'd tried that anywhere else, she'd probably have a war on her hands. You really have to pity the Genovians, with a princess like that. I mean, insulting foreign dignitaries without realizing it is one thing, but doing it without meaning to, but seeming like you mean to, well, that's something else entirely. From what I've seen of Clarice, I'm surprised Mia's allowed out of the house without a keeper. Besides her bodyguard, I mean. 

She introduced herself (sovereign to subject), and her friends (high ranking official and close friends to press), and even her bodyguard (would she present the maid to a queen? Honestly, stupid girl, you don't present the hired help unless you're asked to). 

"Pleasure to meet you, Mia." I didn't bother to reintroduce myself - Mike had already given my name, after all - and I didn't introduce Nick. Once I might have, but that was before Grandpa taught me etiquette. "Your grandmother sent me, by the way." 

I could almost see her mind processing that. Grandmother... princess duties... foreign dignitaries... other princess! 

"Oh," she said, a bit weakly. Well, thanks, Mia. Nice to meet you to. 


	3. Same Old Story

_Ok, super short chapter. If you're at all confused, it's understandable. I'm going to be shoving in chapters like this every once in a while just to mix things up and give some different perspectives to the story. I also feel like making Mia look like a whining idiot (hense, this chapter)._   
_Thanks again to all who reviewed. I've decided to honor the timeless and totally pointless tradition of replying to these comments._   
_Ira Gaines: Firstly, I have no idea how you spell Clarice (anyone: is it Clarice or Clarisse?). I only have the second one handy, and after about 15 mins flipping through it I couldn't find the proper spelling. So until someone lets me know what it really is (please? anyone?), she's Clarice. I do hope to write more about Nick, but it has to be worked in (probably in chapters like this)._   
_Purplemartian33: I have fixed the formatting!!! (I'm so proud)_   
_SarahLou3187 and Kay: Thanks so much!_   


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**Wednesday, June 22, Bio**   
Why must the world be so unfair? And why is it never unfair in my favor? Like, this other princess Grandmere brought in. I think I could put up with her sarcasm, and her flawless princess-ness, except that no, she had to go and steal my boyfriend too.   
Seriously. He brought her in to G&T, and she told me where she was staying in case I, for some weird reason, decided to contact her, and then she took off, and Michael went with her. He didn't even say goodbye. 

They've been gone the whole day. They're probably off making out somewhere and why did I have to think of that? Doesn't she have her own boyfriend. It's not like she isn't pretty, in a kinda wild way. I mean, what about that guy that was with her? She never even introduced him. He was kinda hot though. But he's not Michael. Besides, he's not here. He's off with her too.   
So they can't be doing anything, can they? I mean, it's not like she'd do anything in front of that guy. Would she? She took off with my boyfriend, after all. He might not even be with them. Lilly keeps telling me to shut up. But why would she care? Michael's only her brother. 

**Later Wednesday, Lilly's**   
Michael's not home. Somehow I'm not surprised. I am really depressed though. Why does this have to happen to me? Every time I think something's finally going right in my life, someone screws it up. And isn't it funny, most of those people are royal.   
This is so not funny. And no, Lilly, I won't shut up. This is my love life and utter happiness that I'm talking about here. It's not like I'm going to get my boyfriend back, anyway. He's going to have to make a choice between me and Princess Sara, and it's pretty obvious he's already decided. Not that I can blame him, I guess. I mean, on one hand there's her, pretty and rich and probably really smart. Or there's me, who despite Grandmere's constant ministrations can't walk in a straight line with a book on my head and looking like a, a baboon or something. Life is too depressing. I think I'll go watch whatever's on TV with Lilly.   



	4. Dinner for Two

_Another fairly short chapter. I haven't had a lot of time, and I probably won't have much for quite a few weeks, so I thought I'd toss out this little update before I leave. Appologies to anyone I've offended because of my comments about New York; I'm a farm girl, and I hate cities. Edmonton will get no praise from me either, if it makes you feel better. It's a stupid city full of beaurocrats anyway. Blah. I'll stop there and save you all my rant on Eastern Canada._

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**Thursday, June 23**   
Well, yesterday was cool. Total fluke, meeting Mike like that. Haven't seen him in ages, and emailing people just isn't the same as actually talking to them. Talked to him tons yesterday, though. He showed me all around New York, bits of it anyway.   
I realized yesterday just how much I hate cities. I know I've lived in a city my whole life, but Edmonton's not really all that big. Hundred thousand people or so, that's all. New York, man, this place just goes on forever. I need some space. Apartments, like some of them are nice and all, but they're all so close together. No backyards, no front lawns. Well, sure in some of the really expensive houses, but nowhere else. How can people stand it? 

We're going climbing this afternoon, like we used to back at camp. Nick's grumping, of course. He doesn't like sports like climbing very much. He's really good at it, though. No, he likes basketball and soccer way better. It's the camaraderie, or something. But he'll come, cause he has to, and anyway, the only other thing for him to do would be supervise the working renovating the consulate. And that's so exciting, I'm sure. 

Mike's blowing off school to come, of course. He's already been accepted to Columbia, anyway, so it's not a big deal. His parent's probably aren't going to like it, though. They have this thing for education. Well, what's he going to learn at this point in time? I'm surprised he's not out of school already. I thought he got out at the beginning of June. Maybe it's different in the private system. But shouldn't his exams be done, anyway? I don't know. It's not like it matters. 

**Later Thursday**   
So tomorrow's my last day of freedom. After that, I'm stuck with Mia. Urgh. She's an idiot, really. I mean, I've only met her once, and only for a couple of minutes, yes, but still. I don't like her. Thanks Mom, thanks a lot. Hawaii would have been way nicer. 

The people were still renovating when I got back to the consulate after climbing, so Nick and I went out to dinner. It was actually pretty nice. He talked to some 'family friends', and they recommended a good restaurant. It's kinda weird. You don't normally expect the mob to act as a concierge, but they do a lot of that for us. 

I hate to admit it, but he looked really good in the suit (Armani, of course) that he wore. Like, really good. Okay, he looks really good all the time, but I can't go around noticing it, can I? I mean, I'm stuck with the guy just about 24/7. And he's my bodyguard, anyway. I'm not supposed to get emotionally attached. Not that I am. But the potential's there. I'm not going to, of course. I mean, serious problems would be just the beginning. Besides, I'm like a little sister to him. And he's like a big brother to me. You just don't have that kind of relationship with someone then go on to that other stuff. It's probably pretty awkward.   
Whoa, I just reread that. I'm way too emotionally attached already. I guess I gotta stop thinking of him as a friend and more as an employee. But I can't do that, can I? I mean, it's not like it would be fun to be stuck with him if I couldn't at least get on with him. And maybe that's part of why I've got him. Maybe my father actually thought of me, for once, when he picked Nick out. Nah. 

Anyway, the restaurant was pretty sweet. I really hate those restaurants where everything's done up in a sorta faux-Victorian style. Like, they're totally tacky. And they're very rarely accurate. Excuse me, but fleur-de-lis and paintings (bad fakes) of Queen Victoria do not go with reproductions of bits of the Bayou. Besides none of them being from the same time period and country simultaneously, I mean. And the paintings of Bavarian castles? No. I hate the brocade curtains, too. And those red carpets with the fancy designs in a wine red. Stylized and tacky. 

This one wasn't like that, though. It was more modern, and done in a kind of Mediterranean idea. Not with olives and stuff everywhere, but in light summery colors. Not many decorations, but it didn't look Spartan either. Really nice, and fancy without being hopelessly elegant and stuck up. And the food… never really liked Grecian food before, but this was superb. We'll be going back, I think. I had Nick thank his contact. I mean, 'family friend'. 

Though I suppose the people in the mob are sort of 'family friends' to the Samsons. Sorta. Not really. Employees. But if you say that, I guess people ask what sort of business you have. Which they'd probably rather not explain. So I guess 'family friend' works. Whatever. 


	5. Last Day of Freedom

_I am returnèd. I appologise, but the next few chapters might be a little slow in coming, because I want to work on my Harry Potter fic, and my Artemis Fowl fic, and any number of my original stories. And I'm a little stuck on how to move into the next part. Or even, what the next part will really be. So... appologies in advance._   
_On to the replies_   
RoughIslandSunrise_: here's the update, as requested_   
Cole-Lover_: yes, I know not all the English recite Monty Python. But not all the French think they're squids, now do they? But when you say things from Monty Python in a terribly fake English accent, it gets annoying very fast. As our character (and many other people) knows well._   
Beth_: yes, well, I can't please everyone. Sara (not Sarah, you will note) is a bit of a brat, I admit. She is, however, a princess and a duchess, born to old money and power. She, and all the others of her ilk, will be like that whether you like it or no. They have every right to be, as far as they're concerned, I suppose. As for Micheal being a jerk, I think I can understand what you mean, but please allow me to clarify: he has just met up with one of his best friends, who he hasn't seen in years. Sometimes people can be a little funny when they're with their old, dear friends._   
Ira Gaines_: thank you so much for your help. Grandmere will be, from this point foreward, Clarisse. I'm too lazy to go back and change it, however, so up until now, she's Clarice. Thanks to you and all my other readers for being understanding on this point. You're right about the Princess Lessons thing. Never even heard of it. However, I totally disagree with the firstborn/nitpicker thing. I'm first-born, and completely lazy on such points... at least on my own work ^_^ As for the mob thing, well, I hope to do more of those, but as they're the sort of thing you shove in without forethought, I have no idea how many I'll do. Still, it being the mob and all, there's plenty of twisted humor to draw on._   
Anna_: thanks for your support. And, well, here's the more!_   
First of the Geeks_: thank you too for your support and praise. And what, dare I ask, do you mean by 'Sara and Nick'? I am so confuzzled._   
Jackie_: I have no idea if this comes after the fourth book, because I haven't been able to get a copy of it yet. Micheal and Mia are together, though, if that helps clarify at all. I have no idea what 'all that jazz' is, cause as I've said, haven't got hold of the fourth book. Soon, though. Until then, appologies for any inaccuracies / contradictions._****

_To all: please read, review, and enjoy_   


* * *

**Friday, June 24**   
I've spent most of the day so far in the consulate. They've redone a number of the rooms already, mostly the private ones. The bedrooms, and so on. They're much nicer, though I'm not sure the style is what I would call timeless. I tried to follow the style that my estate at Rysoth is done in, because it's absolutely beautiful. Whoever decorated it, a hundred years ago or whenever, had excellent taste. 

It was a bit hard to duplicate it, of course. I don't have hand done portraits of the Minotis from six hundred years ago, or one-of-a-kind statues done in tribute to the family from three hundred years before. Everything has to be a modern reproduction, or a purchased piece. No family heirlooms that have been handed down through the centuries.   
I've had each of the rooms themed, sort of. All older, elegant European styles, of course, but from different countries and periods. I must say, for all its faults, New York has some excellent artisans. They're doing a spectacular job renovating the horrid place. 

Mike invited me to go to a movie with him and Mia tonight. I was a little worried, I admit, that I would be cutting in on a date of some sort, but he said not to worry, because Lilly was coming to, and bringing her boyfriend Boris. Besides, Lars, Mia's bodyguard, would be there. That doesn't do much for my belief in what he said, I admit. I'm supposed to go to a movie with two teenage couples and a bodyguard. And my bodyguard, I guess. So, basically, I'll talk to Mike a bit, then I'll end up going to a movie with Nick. Because, well, just because. 

Mike went to school, because it's the last day and he needs to pick up his stuff. And I think he got in trouble over the climbing thing, at least a little. 

Nick's playing his guitar. It's hard to hear it, but I don't think it could be anything else. No CD stops so often and starts swearing. I guess he's out of practice. Or he's got the window open and the wind keeps blowing the music away. I don't think I want to find out. He's probably not in the greatest mood. 

They're working in the garden under my window. It's the nicest part of the house, but they're putting some more features in, and pulling out the couple of flower beds that are dead. I guess no one came here for quite a while before Lady Tanya, and she didn't do anything for the upkeep of the place. 

I like the waterfall they have planned. It's not very big, only about five feet high, but the guy who's building it is basing it on a bunch of waterfalls he's seen hiking in the Rockies. He told me his primary inspiration was a little back-country waterfall he found hiking in Alberta. He showed me the pictures. It's gonna be beautiful. 

I suppose I should get back to reading. Grandpa's set me a book list, so I can learn about history and philosophy and politics and all sorts of other stuff. Like good literature. And what, may I ask, is so wrong with Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings? They're no Dickens, granted. They're far more interesting. I mean, how many people face giant demons or soul-sucking vampire things in Great Expectations? I did like Don Quixote when he made me read it, though. Great story, once you understand what Cervantes is saying. 

The book he has me reading right now isn't so bad either. Sun Tzu, The Art of War. But it's heavy going, like all the books he's set me. Alright, my dead Chinese friend, teach me your wisdom. 

**Later Friday**   
I suppose I should have actually labeled this as Saturday, because it's like one in the morning. But it still feels like Friday, because I haven't slept yet, and, of course, it's dark. 

We went to the movie with Mike and Mia and Lilly and Boris and Lars. Lilly's the pug-faced girl from the school. Mike's sister, Mia's best friend. Apparently she's really smart. She's also really bad tempered. 

Started in on my economic and political policies as soon as I saw her. Somehow she found out I'm a princess. I wonder if she does this to Mia? If she does, it must get really annoying. I was sick of it before she'd finished her second sentence. All that 'free country' and 'equal rights' and so forth. 

"Do you even know what country I'm from?" I demanded. She'd made no mention of it, so I had to wonder. Just a lot about monarchy and feudalism and so forth, and how it was all so terrible and I should be ashamed of myself for supporting it.   
Well, it turns out she didn't. Mia obviously hadn't told her. "Well, I'm the princess of Armen, and my people don't pay taxes so I can live in luxury. The rich foreigners who come to visit and do business do that. My income comes solely from tariffs and payments from other countries for trading privileges." She shut up for a while after that, before she started in again. She was asking questions this time, though, and actually seemed interested in what I had to say. Were we a constitutional monarchy, or something like that? Sort of, except that the royal family still holds power over the House of Commons and House of Lords (as they are called in English), and is involved in the government beyond just signing documents. What did we have by way of equality rights? No such thing. The same laws apply to everyone. Even minors? There is no age of majority. 

Mike broke up the conversation after a while, saying the movie was starting and people wouldn't like us discussing politics during it, even if it was only previews. Boris seemed happy to be able to talk to his girlfriend again, though she promptly told him to be quiet and watch the movie. There is no way I'm breaking up Mia's friendship with this girl. They're good for each other. Or at least, Lilly's good for Mia. 

At one point, when the characters were making sappy love speeches to each other, Mike and I started throwing popcorn at each other. It's an old tradition we have, from the rare movie nights at camp. Sometimes we'd get the whole camp involved, but most of the time it was just us and a few friends, every man for themselves. I don't actually remember seeing the end of any of those movies. We tended to get kicked out. 

We weren't kicked out this time, but Nick took away my popcorn. When I couldn't retaliate, Mike stopped throwing. I think Lilly and Boris, who were between us, were glad. It's hard to aim in the dark, and popcorn doesn't fly all that well to begin with. 

I had to beg Nick, in a whisper, to get my popcorn back. It's not fair. He should have to do what I say. At least when it's as reasonable as giving me back my snack. 

We went for pancakes afterwards. Some 24-hour pancake house. I've had better, I admit, but never at eleven thirty at night. I tend to eat my flapjacks in the morning. Late morning, approaching lunch. 

We're back at the consulate now, and I'm really tired, but I had too much coffee (which wasn't really all that good) and now I can't sleep. Damn and blast. 


End file.
